


Timestamp - Post White Collar

by emwebb17



Series: Angel Slayer [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 07:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18960619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emwebb17/pseuds/emwebb17
Summary: Benson and Oska go on their honeymoon.





	Timestamp - Post White Collar

**Friday, January 23, 2015**

The dark, heavy beat of the music vibrated through Benson’s body in perfect time with the slow, deliberate movements of Oska’s hips.  A fire burned in a stone hearth, large and hot, barely three feet from where they were making love on the fur blanket they’d laid down on the floor.  Sweat rolled down Oska’s spine and a fine sheen covered his whole body making him glisten in the orange glow of firelight.  Benson’s hands had a little trouble keeping their grip on Oska’s hips because of it, but he looked beautiful as he rode him—barely moving in more than hard, swiveling figure eights as he rocked with the music.  His hands had started on Benson’s chest and nipples, but were now tangled in his own hair as he grinded down onto Benson, making them both feel how every inch of Benson’s thick cock fit perfectly snug inside Oska’s body.  Oska bit his lip and pulled on his hair and gasped softly as the rhythm line of the song began to throb around them a little faster—and Oska along with it.

The lyrics were repetitive, but the song built and built with the added suggestion of a ticking clock that made Benson feel like there was a countdown to something.  From the way Oska slightly increased his movements and pulled harder on his hair, destroying his bottom lip with his teeth—Benson suspected he felt it too.

“Benson, baby…gonna make me come…”

“I’m not even doing anything, angel.  This is all you.  Think you can spread your legs just a little bit more?  Open up for me, Oz.  Just a little more.”

Oska let out a desperate, whining sound, but his knees slid on the fur, opening his hips just a little wider, and he sank down completely.  It was physically impossible for Benson to be any deeper inside his body and Oska lost it.  He stopped moving and let out a sobbing groan as he came untouched, spurting warm come all over himself and Benson.  Benson kept his grip on Oska’s body and watched in awe as his husband seemed to be completely lost in his own pleasure.  He kind of almost missed his own orgasm, but when Oska started murmuring how much he loved feeling Benson fill him up, Benson became aware that he was coming.  He closed his eyes and couldn’t hold back his own pleasure-filled sobbing noise as he claimed his husband.

And god would he never get tired of using that word.

The song ended and changed to an old 90’s soft rock love ballad.  Oska removed his hands from his hair and ran them down his sweaty and come-covered chest.  Then he looked at his hands and laughed.

“Sex is so gross,” he chuckled.

Benson replied, “More embarrassing than gross.  We’re both crying like a couple of—”

“Finish that sentence…I dare you,” Oska said, holding his filthy hands over Benson’s face.

“Saps,” Benson said.  “I was gonna saps.  Nothing derogatory.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Oska looked around them and saw nothing handy, so he leaned forward and wiped his hands on the furry blanket on either side of Benson.

“Oh!  Oska!”

“What?  We bought it for, like, seven bucks at Walmart.  Expressly for the purpose of getting it filthy while we had sex on it.  Were you planning on taking it home?”

“Well…I guess not.”

Oska glanced over at the fire that was almost making the room too hot.

“You’re right.  It’s better we waited until winter to come here.  If we’d come in October a fire would have been unbearable.”

Benson placed a possessive hand on Oska’s thigh and the other he put behind his head.  He turned his head to look out the window.  Outside was a gorgeous winter landscape of mountains and forest gleaming white with fresh snowfall.  Their cabin was snug and comfortable and they’d already discussed how they felt accomplished as human beings for thwarting nature—and then promptly spent two hours discussing how they were likely going to wind up dead and buried in an avalanche, their bodies remaining undiscovered until spring for tempting the Universe with their hubris.

“It is pretty out there,” Benson said.  “Fall would have been colorful, but I kind of like the purity of the snow.”

“Mm, not touching that with a ten foot pole.  But, I know what you mean.  I don’t suppose that means you want to actually go outside and look at it at some point before we have to go back home.”

Benson smiled and shifted his hips.  Oska moaned brokenly at the feel of Benson’s cock inside him even though it was soft.

“I can see it just fine through the window,” Benson said.

“Hm.  But we have to go somewhere we can buy a souvenir at least.  One for ourselves, and I promised I’d get one for Del and Jordan.  Though you ought to pick out Jordan’s.”

“They have souvenirs at the airport.”

Oska tsked at him in mild disgust, and then reached out with a hand and tilted his chin a little more to the right.  He ran his fingers over the smooth, exposed skin of Benson’s neck.  The bite mark Russ had left on him was gone.  Oska had diligently made sure that Benson used an anti-scar cream on the healing wound four times a day for six solid weeks.  Benson couldn’t see where it had been and he couldn’t feel anything when he ran his own hand over it.  The fact that Oska could unerringly put his hand exactly where it used to be was all in his head.

“See anything?” Benson asked, just to be conversational.

“No.”

“I told you it was gone.”

“I wish he could still get the death penalty,” Oska muttered.

“He can.  Six out of eight families from Lubbock were able to identify the treasures he took from the Lady Killer kills.  Plus a family member of one of the potential male victims they postulated also recognized a class ring.  That’s seven people who are demanding Russ be brought to Texas for trial.  And I guarantee you, in Texas, they will kill him.”

Oska frowned.  “Good.  I hate to be happy about ending a life…but there’s no redeeming him.  And he’ll only continue to try to manipulate and torture people from prison.  And now that he’s pissed at you because you’re still with me, he’s not going to help you or anyone else find his other disciples.”

Oska was still frowning, his eyes focused on Benson neck.  Benson rubbed his leg to get his attention and chuckled.

“Tell me again the look on his face when you told him we were getting married.”

“Murder, mostly, to be quite frank.  But it was this perfect combination of despair and realizing that you’d been playing him all along.  And then it was mostly anger and murder and him leaping across the table to snap my neck.”

Benson shuddered and grabbed one of Oska’s wrists to ground himself.  He didn’t know why he’d broken the “Russ has no place in our relationship” rule.  He’d been trying to make Oska feel better, but now he just felt terrified all over again.  One stupid, improperly trained guard had nearly cost Benson all of his happiness.  He knew Oska was it for him.  As much as he had lectured Jordan on “there’s no such thing as ‘the one,’” Benson knew that he could only be happy as long as he had Oska.  No amount of family or friends or new lovers would ever save him from the loneliness and misery of losing Oska.  And he hated that he thought about losing Oska at all, but one man had nearly taken him from him twice.

Oska leaned forward to soothe him with soft kisses scattered across his face.  The movement caused Benson to slip completely from his body, and Benson pouted unhappily.

“It’s okay, baby,” Oska said with faux-concern.  “You can put it back in later.”

“Wanna put it back in now,” he whined.

“You’re not even hard,” Oska laughed.

“Gimme a sec.”

“Later.”  Oska got to his feet and carefully stepped over Benson’s prone body as he made his way to the kitchen.  He sucked in a sharp breath and hopped across the cold floor until he reached the rug in front of the sink.  “Okay.  The floors are a little too cold.  Perhaps we should have found a compromise between October and frickin’ January.”

“November and December were booked.  Holidays.  Plus you know my mom wanted us there for Christmas so that she could make up for last year.”

“There was nothing to make up for,” Oska said as he filled a glass of water at the sink.

“What?  Can you turn the music down?” Benson asked, barely able to hear Oska over the scratchy strains of Tom Waits.  He didn’t know what so many people, including Oska, liked about him.

Oska turned the music completely off and Benson took that to mean that he was serious about actually leaving the cabin this time.  They had been mostly naked and sticky for five solid days.  They were flying home tomorrow, so if they didn’t go out today they _would_ be buying their souvenirs at the airport.

“I said that there was nothing to make up for.  Though I did appreciate the family dinner more this year.  And it was very sweet of your mother to buy us matching stockings.”

Benson sat up, rolling his eyes.  “Yeah, just what we needed in an apartment without a mantle.”

“I think she wanted us to stay there Christmas Eve night.”

“Oh, I know what she wanted, but waking up at 6:00am to the sounds of shrieking kids was not what _I_ wanted.”

“What if they were our kids?”

“Well, that would be a different story, now wouldn’t it?”

Benson had been in the middle of stretching out his tired muscles (he’d done most of the work in their first session that morning) when he heard Oska start coughing violently.  He turned around in concern and saw Oska trying to clear the water he’d swallowed down the wrong pipe.  Benson walked over to him and patted his back gently while Oska put down his glass and cleared his throat a few times.

“You okay?” Benson asked, partly amused, but mostly concerned.

“Y-yeah.”  He coughed.  “Fine.  Geez.  That startled me.”

“What, the water?”

“No, your response.”

Benson tried to think back to what they were talking about.  “I don’t…”

“I thought you would roll your eyes or make a face at the notion of us…having kids.”

“Oh.  I guess…I was thinking of it in the abstract.”

“Oh.  R-right.  Of course.”

Oska turned and began washing his glass.

“Oska…do you want kids?”

Oska stayed focused on his glass.  “Not always, but...I guess I just thought that…with us…and, I’m kind of too old anyway…that it would be nothing but something to joke about.”

Benson turned and leaned against the counter and watched Oska thoroughly clean a glass that had only had water in it.

“Oska…do you want children?  With me?”

Oska inhaled slowly and put the glass in the dish rack.  Then he turned off the water.  He managed to glance over at Benson once, and then looked down at the sink.

“Well.  Um.  Okay, yes, I would like that, but I don’t think it’s really feasible, so it’s not something we have to discuss.”

“Why not?  Don’t you want to know what I want?”

“Yes, of course.  Although, maybe it’s a conversation we should have when we’re not standing around butt naked in the kitchen of a cabin we don’t own on a snowy mountaintop.”

“I suppose that’s a good point.  I’m going to go take a shower, if you’re insisting on going out today.”

“I am.”

“Join me?”

“Do you really need to ask?  Go get it started; I just want to check my email really quick.”

“Okay.”

Benson pushed off the counter with his hips and then leaned in to kiss Oska’s cheek.

“I want kids too,” he said, and then walked toward the back of the cabin.  He glanced back as he turned the corner and saw Oska gripping the edge of the sink and grinning a bit like a maniac.  Benson smiled and hoped the goober wouldn’t forget to join him in the shower.

~~~

Oska held up a Christmas tree ornament that looked like a moose snowman.  It was on sale for a deep post-Christmas discount, so he thought that even if Benson’s mother hated it, it would be okay because he wouldn’t be out too much money.

“What about this?” he asked Benson, holding up the ornament.  “I know she had a snowmen-ornaments-only theme for her tree, but this is a snowman.  It’s just shaped like a moose.  Because we’re in Yellowstone.”

Benson tilted his head.  “Um…I don’t know.  It just looks like a bulbous white moose.”

“Well, snowmen look like bulbous white men.”

“How much is it?”

“Mm…after the discount…three dollars.”

“Eh, get it.  Worst case she hangs it on the back of the tree for a couple of years until she begins to ‘forget’ to bring it out.”

“Okay.  Maybe it’ll get one year on the front of the tree because she still feels bad about the first Christmas.”

“I thought there was nothing to forgive,” Benson said, taking the snow moose so that Oska could continue to browse.

“There’s not.  But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still feel guilty about it.”

“Hnn.  Are you hungry yet?” Benson complained.

“Almost.  Have you found something for Jordan?”

Benson made another whining noise and then meandered off into the snack food section of the gift shop.  Oska found himself looking at the decorative rocks with colorful quartz crystals in them.  His sister would have liked these.  It had been over year since she had died, and he hadn’t even been back to visit her grave.  But he was never going to go back to Elton.  For any reason.  His home was in DC now.  Or wherever Benson went.  Home wasn’t a place—it was a person.  Or people.  Benson probably couldn’t live without his family, even if they were a lot to deal with.

This past Christmas had been somewhat pleasant, but he was remembering the first family dinner they’d had after getting married.  Benson had asked if they could all get together and his mother had decided she wanted to throw a dinner party.  She’d gone all out with decorations and delicious food and it had all been ruined when their “happy” announcement had made her cry.

Well, not cry—bawl.  Her feelings had been hurt terribly that she hadn’t been invited to the wedding.  Benson tried to explain that no one had been there, but that hadn’t made her feel better.  Benson’s older brothers had chastised him like they were ten years older rather than only a couple of years.  His younger brother, Hollis—Oska’s only real ally in the family—had tried to make peace, but then Benson’s father had said that it was better the whole thing had been a quiet affair.  That had set Benson off.  He’d yelled at his father for being ashamed and disgusted by him and that if that was the case then he should forbid him and Oska from entering his home.

Things had spiraled out of control from there.  Benson’s mother had run from the room sobbing and a couple of his sisters-in-law followed her.  His sister had yelled at Benson because she knew that their mother would now start demanding she get married and would take total control over the wedding since it would be her “last chance.”  Everyone had had any opinion and a shouting match had commenced.  Through the shouting Oska had eaten his duck because it had been really good and he wasn’t about to waste it because a bunch of crazy people didn’t know how to communicate with each other.

Finally Benson’s father had managed to calm Benson down by expansively telling him how much he respected and admired him and how proud he was of him and that all he’d meant was that he knew that if his mother had known she would have wanted to plan a lavish wedding and he was trying to convince her that a no frills wedding was a good thing.  Benson’s brothers and in-laws had finally managed to stop fighting amongst themselves and Hollis’ wife had convinced Benson’s mother to return to the table.  Everly had still been annoyed with Benson though—she’d been certain she’d wind up in a big ugly frou-frou princess dress just so her mother wouldn’t cry.

Once everyone had returned to the same room, there had been a slight lull in the shouting and arguing and crying and Oska had leapt up and wrapped an arm around Mrs. Remick.  He’d apologized to her for Benson’s terrible explanation and that he should have jumped in sooner to clarify things.  Benson had looked confused and slightly suspicious.  Then Oska had told her, and everyone, that they had had to do a quick justice of the peace marriage because of the ninety day deadline the Bureau put on them so that Oska would qualify for the assignment to WFO.  That had calmed Benson’s mother down a bit, but his father had made some sort of noise like “that explains it” and Benson’s therapist brother had rolled his eyes and muttered bureaucracy wasn’t a reason to get married and they had all been poised on the precipice of a fight that Oska wasn’t sure they would have been able to come back from.

So, Oska had pretended like he hadn’t heard Benson’s father’s and brother’s dick comments and that he didn’t know that Benson’s sister and Hollis were about to get into fights with their siblings and he’d announced happily, “We were hoping to have the big wedding later.”  Benson had gone completely still, and then turned slowly, like he was in a horror movie, to look at Oska.  Oska had sent him a look that let him know if he contradicted him that he would be going on their honeymoon alone.  Oska had gone on to explain how they’d done nothing to celebrate the wedding because they didn’t want to have to rush planning it in ninety days.  That was for legal purposes for the Bureau, but as far as he and Benson were concerned, they were still just engaged and had all the time they needed to plan a wedding and a reception.

That had shut most everyone up and Mrs. Remick’ eyes now had tears of happiness and she had kissed Oska’s cheek no less than five times.  Hollis had looked between Oska’s and Benson’s faces, and he was probably the only one who caught onto the load of bull Oska had fed his mother and the crushing anxiety attack Benson was suffering.  And Hollis had burst out laughing.  Only Oska and Benson had known why he was laughing (and Benson hadn’t been happy about it), but it was so joyful and infectious that it managed to lighten the whole mood.  The dinner had been sort of saved, and the only thing sacrificed was Benson’s and Oska’s sanity.  They’d given the planning of their wedding completely over to Mrs. Remick with the knowledge that she had a blank check because Oska’s inheritance could cover most anything.  Apparently Oska was going to be a June groom.

Oska shook himself out of the memory.  The next week with Benson had been a little tense as he hadn’t known whether he was angry at Oska or grateful for the interference.  The first time his mother showed up and excitedly showed them swatches to pick out wedding colors (because nothing can be done until I know what colors you want to use!), Oska had been petrified that Benson was going to figure out that he was mostly angry.  But after she had left, Benson had been calm and amusedly resigned.  He was happy that his mother was so happy.  Plus, he was kind of thrilled about the idea of getting married at his parents’ country club where all of his father’s douche bag friends were sure to know about it even if they refused the invitation.  The tension has dissipated and Oska had done his best to run interference between Benson and his mother.  He himself still didn’t know most of the details of the wedding, but from what he did know he knew it would be wisest to keep Benson in the dark for as long as possible.

Oska picked up a small quartz piece that also showed a few layers of the earth’s crust.  He decided to buy it and sit it on his desk at work to remind him of Natalia.  He was on his way to the large huckleberry products display when screaming suddenly broke out.  Someone yelled, “He has a gun!”  Oska’s instinct was to reach for his weapon, but he’d chosen not to bring one on the trip at all even though Benson (and all his instructors) told him that an FBI agent was always armed—on duty, off duty, at home, and on vacation.  He still ran toward the commotion while everyone else ran away from it.

He rounded the large stack of stuffed animals and saw a couple of people and a clerk crouching behind the counter.  Two of them were on the phone with 911.  They were peeking out at a large man crouching on top of a scrawny man.  The scrawny man’s arms were being held behind his back and the large man had a gun pressed to the back of his prisoner’s head.  The most shocking thing about the whole scene was that the man with the gun was Benson.

“Benson?” Oska asked carefully.

“He’s one of Russ’,” Benson forced out between gritted teeth.  He wouldn’t take his eyes off the guy he had pinned down.

Oska glanced at the people behind the register.  “It’s okay.  We’re FBI.”  He did at least have enough sense to keep his creds on him and flashed them.  The people relaxed a little bit, but stayed hidden behind the counter.

“Benson…why do you think he’s one of Russ’ disciples?”

“Probably not a disciple; just one of his tools.”

“Okay.  Why?”

“He said, ‘I’ve stolen enough of your time.’”

“No, I didn’t!” the man squawked.

“Shut up!” Benson yelled and the man flinched as best he could while being held immobile.

“Benson, baby, is it possible you misheard him?”

“No.”

That was good enough for Oska.  “I’m going to go out front and wait for the police.  We don’t want them to come in here and start shooting people.”

The police arrived minutes later—which was actually a really good response time—and Oska greeted them with his creds out and arms in the air.  After a quick explanation they came in, without weapons drawn thankfully.  Benson was right where he had left him and he reluctantly let the police take over arresting the man.  It was a long, confusing, and awkward conversation as the police tried to understand that the guy hadn’t stolen anything or threatened anyone, he’d just apologized to a man for asking his opinion on which necklace he should buy for his girlfriend.  The suspect began getting ornery and demanding a lawyer.  Eventually the cop in charge did manage to decide that they should move everything down to the police precinct.

When the story got explained there, the police chief pitched a fit.  He demanded that the guy be released immediately, but they’d already started the booking process and they had to wait for the inquiries to go through on him before they could clear him and discharge him.  Oska and Benson were given a rather condescending lecture from the police chief—probably because he enjoyed having power over the FBI—and then he told them that he’d be calling their supervisors and slammed the door of the interview room where he left them alone together.

Benson sat back in his chair, scowling fiercely at the beat up and scratched surface on the table.  Oska sat beside him, not sure what to make of what had happened in the gift shop.  He reached out and put a hand on top of Benson’s clenched fist.

“Can you tell me one more time what happened?” Oska asked.  “I’m sorry, with everyone yelling and interrupting, I didn’t quite get it all.”

“You think I’m paranoid?” Benson asked tiredly.

“I don’t know yet.  What happened?”

“I was looking at some snack things for Jordan, and then this guy asks me to look at some necklaces.  He said he couldn’t decide which one his girlfriend would like best.  I mean, like hell if I would know if he didn’t, but I was polite.  Picked one out.  But he waffled over it like he wasn’t sure and kept talking about one versus the other.  Finally I just said I couldn’t help him.  And he apologized.  And I thought that was the end of it, so I started to turn away, but then he said ‘I’ve stolen enough of your time.’  That’s what the woman in the garage said.  That’s what Darcy said.  He’s one of Russ’.  I know it.”

Oska patted his stiff hand again.  “Okay.”

Ten minutes later the police chief and two officers entered the room with a laptop.  They set it down in front of Benson and clicked play on the video.  It was the footage from a surveillance camera in the store.  Benson and the man were clearly visible and even their dialogue was audible over the drone of the rest of the busy store.  Everything progressed much as Benson had said, but when Benson turned away from him the man’s last sentence had been, “Sorry to have bothered you.”

Oska glanced nervously at Benson.  He looked completely shocked.  He really had believed that he’d heard “I’ve stolen enough of your time.”  He sat back in his chair in stunned silence.  Oska glanced up at the smirking police chief and barely restrained himself from kicking the man’s balls up into his sinuses.  He knew the man might even go to the local press with the story, just to try to humiliate the FBI.  The police chief started gearing up for a big, patronizing speech when a young officer burst into the room.

“Damnit, White!” the police chief growled.  “Comport yourself like a professional.  We’re in a meeting here.  We’ll talk later.”

“But, sir—we got a hit on the man’s prints.  There’s a warrant out for his arrest in Georgia.”

“For what, parking tickets?” the man scoffed.

“No, sir.  Three counts of murder.  He killed his girlfriend and her two children and then set them on fire.”

No one in the room said anything for several long moments.  Then the police chief said, “We haven’t released him, have we?”

“No, he’s still in custody.”

Everyone exhaled in relief.

“Okay.  Well, let’s call down to Georgia and let them know we got him.  As for you two,” he looked at Benson and Oska, “while this is completely unrelated to whatever mental breakdown you had in that store, I’m sure as hell not going to accuse an FBI agent of any wrongdoing by catching a murderer.  You guys head on out of here.  And, uh, enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

The chief left the room and his officers followed behind.  Oska and Benson stayed seated.  Benson didn’t look relieved or happy at all.  Oska scooted his chair closer and put a hand on his thigh.

“Are you okay?”

“No.  Because…I still think he’s one of Russ’.  I mean, I know I misheard what he said, but this guy turns out to be a murderer in another state?  I just happened to randomly flip out on a murderer?  I feel like I know that I’m being crazy.  I heard that he didn’t say it, but…”

Oska leaned against his side and combed his fingers through his hair.  “Shh, it’s okay.  Something else must have triggered your subconscious.  Maybe you saw his face on the news, or there was something about the way he talked about his girlfriend…your brain made you hear that phrase so that you would have a reason to react to him.  It’s okay.  Everything is okay.”

“And what if next time I pull a gun on someone innocent?”

“Then we’ll deal with it.”

Benson turned his head and looked at him.  “What, you’re not going to reassure me that that won’t happen?”

“I can’t possibly know that.  I don’t think it will.  Honestly, I think you went after that man because some part of you knew he was guilty of something.  I don’t think you ‘randomly’ flipped out on some guy and got lucky.”

Benson grumbled, but didn’t make an attempt to lodge a formal protest.  Oska nuzzled his cheek with his nose and Benson grumbled louder, but he didn’t pull away in the slightest.

“Come on.  We’ve got that cabin for one more night and we haven’t even tried the hot tub.”

“It’s below freezing outside,” Benson muttered.

“That’s kind of the point, babe.”

“What about shopping?  I think I broke that snow moose.”

“It’s okay.  They have souvenirs at the airport.”

Benson seemed reluctant to be let out of the situation without being punished for something, but Oska knew Benson’s weakness.

“ _Husband_ , I want you to take me back to our honeymoon cabin and—hm.  I was going to say ‘ravish me,’ but that might be a little too trashy romance novel even for you and me.”

“Drill you into the mattress is probably too crass.”

“Kind of what I want though.”

“What about the hot tub?”

“Oh.  Ew.  We are not having sex in a rental cabin’s hot tub.”

“Can we get some more of that huckleberry ice cream on the way back?”

“Of course.  As long as I get to lick it off your—”

The door opened and one of the officers who had brought them in started.  “Oh, sorry, I thought you two had left.”

“We were just doing that now,” Benson said, standing up and taking Oska by the hand.

He led them out of the station and to their rental car that Oska had had to drive behind the police car that had carried Benson.  They’d let him sit up front, but it had still been a little insulting.

“Hey,” Benson said, nudging Oska’s shoulder.

“What?”

“Say it again.”

“Say wha—oh.  _Husband_.”

Benson grinned goofily and held the car door open for Oska.  He slid into his seat with a silly smile of his own.  He supposed it was his weakness too.


End file.
